by every one, bearing
herself as proudly as a queen, mourning nobly for the fallen Empire. So
that when Martine informed her that Clotilde had come, she quickened her
steps as she approached La Souleiade, spurred by the fear of arriving
too late.

But as soon as she was installed in the house, Felicite at once regained
her composure. There was no hurry, they had the whole night before them.
She wished, however, to win over Martine without delay, and she knew
well how to influence this simple creature, bound up in the doctrines of
a narrow religion. Going down to the kitchen, then, to see the chicken
roasting, she began by affecting to be heartbroken at the thought of her
son dying without having made his peace with the Church. She questioned
the servant, pressing her for particulars. But the latter shook her head
disconsolately--no, no priest had come, monsieur had not even made the
sign of the cross. She, only, had knelt down to say the prayers for the
dying, which certainly could not be enough for the salvation of a soul.
And yet with what fervor she had prayed to the good God that monsieur
might go straight to Paradise!

With her eyes fixed on the chicken turning on the spit, before a bright
fire, Felicite resumed in a lower voice, with an absorbed air:

"Ah, my poor girl, what will most prevent him from going to Paradise are
the abominable papers which the unhappy man has left behind him up there
in the press. I cannot understand why it is that lightning from heaven
has not struck those papers before this and reduced them to ashes. If
they are allowed to leave this house it will be ruin and disgrace and
eternal perdition!"

Martine listened, very pale.

"Then madame thinks it would be a good work to destroy them, a work that
would assure the repose of monsieur's soul?"

"Great God! Do I believe it! Why, if I had those dreadful papers in my
hands, I would throw every one of them into the fire. Oh, you would not
need then to put on any more sticks; with the manuscripts upstairs alone
you would have fuel enough to roast three chickens like that."

The servant took a long spoon and began to baste the fowl. She, too,
seemed now to reflect.

"Only we haven't got them. I even overheard some words on the subject,
which I may repeat to madame. It was when mademoiselle went upstairs.
Dr. Raymond spoke to her about the papers, asking her if she remembered
some orders which she had received, before she went away, no d